Chapter Text
The smack to his left ass cheek created a resounding crack and caused at least three customers to turn their heads in his direction in time to witness Cas’ startled yelp. He righted himself from where he had been casually bent over the counter and turned to Meg – who else? – with an almost inhuman level of speed, it left him standing close enough to inhale her perfume.
“Hey, Clarence,” she smiled at him, and while her lips remained closed, her eyes were predatory enough to reflect her delight at simultaneously having caught him so thoroughly unaware and subsequently making such a spectacle of him.
“Meg,” was all Cas was willing to offer. He knew his face was probably flaming as brightly as his butt was, but he wasn’t willing to embarrass himself further.
She continued to smile at him, knowingly, expectantly, and it made Castiel feel even more unsettled. He broke eye contact at the sound of a bell heralding a new customer and Cas knew by the prickling on the back of his neck that her eyes were stalking him through the diner to seat the customer and take their coffee order.
“What?” his voice was uncomfortably shrill as he returned to the counter to make the coffee the customer had requested.
His hands moved anxiously, still wary of doing even the most menial of tasks incorrectly. He’d only been working in the diner for a little over two weeks and he still felt as though he was an alien. He didn’t know where everything was kept or what ingredients went into which concoctions. He’d nearly quit when someone had specified the type of foam they wanted on their drink on his first day. He still felt a profound gratitude that Meg had been there to snort and tell the scandalized woman that the diner wasn’t that kind of joint and that she could run along to Starbucks if she wanted sprinkles on her drink.
Castiel still felt a strange discomfort at the memory, as if now, days later, he might be reprimanded for it. Once, he would have said something just as blithe himself, confident in who he was and where he stood in the world. Now, he always felt one step out of time, waiting to tread on someone’s toes in a dance he used to be familiar with.
He returned from delivering the coffee and decided to change tact with Meg. Instead of shifting uncomfortably, he met her eye directly and squinted at her. He might be feeling a little out of his element in this new job, but he wasn’t a pushover, not any more. Never again.
“You were smiling,” is all she offered.
Castiel tilted his head as if it might help him to garner a better understanding of her cryptic observation.
“Smiling?”
“Yep,” she made a popping sound around the ‘p’. “Real big smile; you looked all dreamy and far away.” The way she said it made it sound like an insinuation, as if she’d caught him doing something that he shouldn’t have been.
Castiel tried to cast his mind back over the previous few minutes. He remembered there was a lull in the diner, the ambient hum of what few customers they had was satisfied and he had unconsciously found himself thinking of the breakfast he’d shared with Sam and Dean this morning. Dean and Sam performed a complicated series of pirouettes around each other, ducking pans being lifted through the air, lifting pots of burners if it looked like something was going to burn. They worked together so easily.
He still wasn’t quite sure where he fit into the dynamic of the house yet. He felt like an unexpected guest in the brothers’ space, awkward in his movements and manners. In the first few days he’d attempted to buy his own food, cook meals on a schedule that wouldn’t interrupt their established routine. His stomach had ached from too many granola bars and bowls of cereal; food he could grab quickly on the way out the door or take back to the room he was occupying. Anti-social but at least he wasn’t taking advantage of anyone’s kindness, or worse; pity.
In trying to make himself small and unobtrusive, he had inadvertently raised Dean’s ire but the more he tried to keep out of the older brother’s way, the more Dean seemed to disapprove.
This morning Dean had bodily shoved him into a chair when he tried to skirt the kitchen on the way to his shift at the diner. Pancakes had unceremoniously been dropped on the table and Dean had done little more than grunt that Castiel should eat up.
“You’re doing it again,” Meg said, intruding on his thoughts. He stumbled slightly as she hip-checked him out of the way to pour herself a glass of water.
Cas, for his part, had nothing to contribute to the conversation. He’d been lost in thought, nothing more. He surreptitiously ran the nail of his thumb over his bottom lip. His cheeks still had the softness created by the distinct lack of facial hair, so the only friction he received was a slight pull on the dry skin of his lip. Why had he been smiling?
This morning wasn’t a particularly happy memory, but it also wasn’t unhappy. He’d felt a flash of irritation about not being able to about his day the way he’d planned, but the flip side to that was the warm food. Sam had caught his eye a couple of times and smiled in encouragement. He hadn’t dared to look at Dean, even his thanks had been addressed to the pancakes themselves rather than the man behind them.
“My dad and I used to have pancakes on a Sunday morning,” he said. Meg looked at him expectantly and he realized that, to her, that had been apropos of nothing.
“I had pancakes, this morning,” he tried again, “with Sam and Dean, I mean. I guess it just made me think of my dad...” he let the sentence trail off into nothing. Meg knew there would be no more pancake breakfasts with his father.
She reached over to pat him on the cheek in her usually patronizing manner, but at the last minute she stopped and cupped his chin, opening her mouth on the cusp of saying something –
“Either of you actually working today?”
Cas jumped and pushed Meg’s wrist down with his hand and turned to look at Dean Winchester who was drumming his thumb and pinky finger on the counter. Sam nodded briefly in greeting before dropping his head to continue concentrating on his phone.
“Well, wouldn’t you know it, Dean Winchester’s come to tell me how to do my job,” Meg pushed herself flirtatiously over the counter so that she was balancing on a single toe while the other foot popped up like a 1950s pin up girl. With the red lips she looked very inch the part.
Dean blew air through his nose dismissively. “Actually, sweetheart, I came to talk to Cas, so you can just run along and pour some coffee now.”
“Oh, Deano.” She sighed at him mockingly, “No need to get jealous, I was only keeping him warm for you.”
Cas felt himself bristle at the implications that he was a toy to be passed around, but he confined to narrowing his eyes at her as she passed him by. He hadn’t yet found his equilibrium with Dean yet, the debt he owed him felt insurmountable.
He turned back to Dean, he looked at him directly, but he was thinking of the coffee he’d spilt over his shirt earlier in the day and the smudge of ketchup that had engrained itself under his fingernail.
“So, Cas, what did you think?” Sam slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and bounced on the balls of his feet. Cas smiled at the way his hair attempted to follow the movement.
“Pardon?”
Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly, “Dean suggested we try to catch a movie tonight, the three of us,” he clarified, as if he knew that Castiel’s kneejerk reaction was to refuse to intrude on their time together.
“Well, I –“ he left his sentence unfinished and looked helplessly from Sam to Dean.
Dean seemed to need just a second too long to repeat his offer. “Yeah, the three of us catching a movie, maybe grabbing some burgers on the way home. What do you say, Cas?”
“I guess?” he said as he rounded the corner, reaching to untie the apron he wore around his waist.
“Atta boy, Cas” Dean’s palm landed heavily on his shoulder and Cas felt a pleased smile edge on to his face.
“Great, this is going to be awesome.” Sam’s enthusiasm seemed to spread to the others.
Cas checked the clock on the wall to ensure it actually was time for him to go, called his parting to his boss and raised his hand to wave goodbye to Meg as he crossed the threshold of the door. He paused briefly in confusion at the look on her face, something calculating that he didn’t know how to parse. He smiled and ducked his head, knowing she would be working long into the evening. In return, her eyes moved past him and she blew a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his right shoulder. He turned to see Dean starting resolutely ahead as he passed the window. Turning back to Meg, he felt even more unsettled as she made a crude shooing gesture and moved across the diner to help an older couple select a dessert.
The gravel crunched under his boots as Castiel followed the brothers towards the Impala and he slid into the backseat with a practiced ease, moving to the middle automatically so that neither brother would have to crane too far to see him.
Sam twisted his upper body to face Cas as Dean turned the key in the ignition, the motor thundering to life under his ministrations. “So, are we thinking explosions and high levels of collateral damage or gross comedy with lots of bodily fluids?”
“Um, what does Dean want to see?” Cas hedged.
“Sammy knows my opinion, yours is the deal breaker so let’s hear it.” Dean didn’t turn to look at him but his eyes briefly flicked to the rearview mirror in expectation.
Cas looked at Sam helplessly, and tried to read the complicated series of facial tics that he seemed to be trying to hint in.
He stopped abruptly when Dean leaned over to smack him on the arm and pointed a warned finger at him. “No influencing the deciding vote, Sammy. What’ll it be, Cas?”
They were stopped at a red light and Dean met his eye in the mirror, deliberately this time.
“Action?”
“Booya!” shouted Dean, making Cas flinch with the strength of his reaction. Dean reached over to playfully punch Sam again. “Told you he was good people,” he smiled at his brother in victory.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rubbed his arm petulantly and contorted around to face Castiel. “How could you? I thought I could trust you, Cas. Now Dean’s going to expect you to vote with him on every decision from now on.” His mock scandalized voice made it sound like the gravest crime imaginable, even though Cas knew for a fact that the Winchester brothers rarely disagreed. Bickered like hell, but only over the little things.
“I’m sorry for the betrayal, Sam,” he said as solemnly as he could.
Sam smiled as he huffed his way around to face the front, therefore missing Dean’s wink into the mirror entirely.
As they pulled into the parking lot, he allowed himself to be swept away by Sam’s long arms, letting him bully him into siding with his candy choice. Dean trailed them by a few steps, typing on his phone but he looked up in fondness as Sam crowed about Cas’ acquiescence on a particular flavor.
For the first time in quite some time, Cas realized he didn’t feel quite so unsettled. It wasn’t quite contentment, but a gentle peace buzzed under his skin as he held the door open for Dean to follow him into the chilled foyer.